A little publisher tells us that some elves have taken a shipment or two away from the printers of Oh My God! There’s An Axe In My Head game. These elves do what elves do, and that’s distribute games.

Also, we’ve gotten a couple of cases straight from the press. They look mighty fine:

It is very close indeed to Christmas, but every effort is being made to get the now-released game into the hands of all the Kickstarter backers as quickly as possible. Further details should be popping up here, gamecompany3.com, Facebook and Twitter as we pull these various sites together.

Dave Fooden and Chris would like to thank everyone for their long patience and trust in our making this wacky wacky dream an even more absurd and amusing reality.

Bill Keller, perennial NY Times columnist and former executive editor, railed against fair use and such last weekend calling any such reportage “theft”

All the while a photocopied article the Times didn’t own was pushed on readers elsewhere on their site. This was pointed out by its owners, the Boston Phoenix, who were amused, but suggestive of a lawsuit over the ironic juxtaposition (aka “hypocrisy”). So then this was opinion-editorialed:
“By the way, when the Boston Phoenix objected, The Times took down the PDF, triumphantly depriving Clark Booth of the chance to be read by a lot of current readers.”

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,
and never thought upon;
The flames of Love extinguished,
and fully past and gone:
Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,
that loving Breast of thine;
That thou canst never once reflect
on Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

My Heart is ravisht with delight,
when thee I think upon;
All Grief and Sorrow takes the flight,
and speedily is gone;
The bright resemblance of thy Face,
so fills this, Heart of mine;
That Force nor Fate can me displease,
for Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

Since thoughts of thee doth banish grief,
when from thee I am gone;
will not thy presence yield relief,
to this sad Heart of mine:
Why doth thy presence me defeat,
with excellence divine?
Especially when I reflect
on Old long syne

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

Oh, then, Clorinda, prove more kind,
be not ungratefull still:
Since that my Heart ye have so ty’d,
why shoud ye then it kill:
Sure, Faith and Hope depend on thee,
kill me not with disdain:
Or else I swear I’ll still reflect
on Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

Since you have rob’d me of my Heart;
It`s reason I have yours;
Which Madam Nature doth impart,
to your black Eyes and Browes:
With honour it doth not consist,
to hold thy Slave in pain:
Pray let thy rigour then resist,
for Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

It is my freedom I do crave,
by depracating pain;
Since libertie ye will not give,
who glories in his Chain:
But yet I wish the gods to move
that noble Heart of thine;
To pity since ye cannot love,
for Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

But since that nothing can prevail
and all hopes are in vain;
From these rejected Eyes of mine,
still showers of Tears Shall rain:
Though thou wast Rebel to the King
and beat with Wind therein,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.

For Old long syne my Jo,
for Old long syne,
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
for Old long syne.